


Arms Strong Enough to Love

by thisis1coolusername



Series: Give me your heart, O Warden [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Awkward Alistair (Dragon Age), F/M, Fluff, Not Beta Read, Pre-Relationship, Romance, Strong Female Warden, my warden is buff and no one is strong enough to stop her not even myself, she's so strong and Alistair is so weak for her, there's a tag for awkward alistair aww
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:21:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22811539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisis1coolusername/pseuds/thisis1coolusername
Summary: Alistair squinted into the night sky, finding himself suddenly engrossed in seeing whether he noticed his companion’s physique being built in the way that Leliana was referring to. (If he was being honest, his eyes tended to wander to other parts of his partner’s body- wait, no! No! Bad Alistair!)“What a wonderful protagonist she would make,” Leliana continued, “Blessed by the Maker in strength and magic.”“She’s certainly blessed in other places too,” he murmured before freezing at his slip of the tongue.He ran at Leliana’s exclamation of, “You’ve noticed as well?!”Alistair had a crush on Avira before, but realizing she could easily snap his neck with her thighs definitely didn't help the matter.
Relationships: Alistair/Female Surana (Dragon Age), Alistair/Female Warden (Dragon Age)
Series: Give me your heart, O Warden [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1870264
Comments: 5
Kudos: 23





	Arms Strong Enough to Love

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired by the dragon age reddit prompts for valentines day, but whatever I wrote didn't exactly fit the prompts. I kept writing anyway and just fell in love with Alistair and my Warden's romance all over again during. Enjoy!

There were three things that are unchangeable truths to Alistair.  
  
One: The sky isn’t blue all the time.  
  
Two: Morrigan is much of a bitch as she is weird, and  
  
Three: Avira’s an extremely capable mage and he’s pretty sure that he’s in love with her.  
  
(Wait, that’s technically four isn’t it?)  
  
Straight out of the circle and she took everything in stride as if she’s never been there. (At least that’s what he thought in the beginning until he found her staring down at her staff with a familiar expression of longing and homesickness.)  
  
Avira also had… strange ideologies regarding magic. He didn’t exactly pick up on it in the beginning of their journey, just knowing that she tended to wander away from camp more often than not and returned only when it’s time for her watch. Alistair figured it was some kind of mage thing (maybe she found out that she gets more mana sleeping in the bushes or something) and well, he wasn’t completely wrong. He only took a closer look when Leliana made a strange remark about his fellow warden.  
  
“Do you and Avira train together often, Alistair?”  
  
He paused in sharpening his blade and made a face as he considered her question.  
  
“Well, if killing darkspawn and bad guys count as training, then yes, we do it often enough.”  
  
She hummed to herself with an amused smile with the light of the campfire and laughter dancing in her eyes. Leliana fiddled with her lute before idly strumming it as she said, “Why yes, of course, but she’s still rather… built isn’t she not?”  
  
Alistair squinted into the night sky, finding himself suddenly engrossed in seeing whether he noticed his companion’s physique being built in the way that Leliana was referring to. (If he was being honest, his eyes tended to wander to other parts of his partner’s body- wait, no! No! Bad Alistair!)  
  
“What a wonderful protagonist she would make,” Leliana continued, “Blessed by the Maker in strength and magic.”  
  
“She’s certainly blessed in other places too,” he murmured before freezing at his slip of the tongue.  
  
At Leliana’s exclamation of, “You’ve noticed as well?!” he nicked himself on his sword in his haste to sheath it and get away from the bard with a flaming face of embarrassment. He retired to his tent to catch a few winks of sleep before his watch but woke up feeling as if he didn’t rest at all. Totally not because Avira was to relieve him for watch duty, banish the thought.  
  
So, when she came from the woods, he found himself paying close attention to the woman. She always wore the Circle of Magi mage robes that seemed to be a size bigger than what it needed to be. Actually, she seemed like…  
  
“Did… Did you get into a fight in the woods?” Alistair stamped down on the urge to go up and check on her as he found that she didn’t respond well to anything that resembled coddling.  
  
Granted, he was more worried for the woodland creatures, unless it was something like a great bear or a pack of blighted wolves or giant rats… Maker’s breath he’s really working himself up, isn’t he?  
  
Her robe was tied away up to her knees (no gashes or blood on her legs) and her normally tamed red coils that were held back by the braids she tied back were a frizzy mess.  
  
Wiping her brow, Avira snorted as she plopped down (he diligently tried to look away when her robe rose higher as she did that) and said, “Did the dead nugs give it away?”  
  
Alistair blinked as he noticed the pair of dead animals laying next to the mage’s staff. Her calm demeanor and teasing had him relaxing as he chuckled.  
  
“They must’ve been nugs possessed by a rage demon who also happened to roll around in darkspawn blood to have given you that much trouble,” he remarked.  
  
Avira barked a laugh as she tucked one of the braids that framed her face behind one long ear, the action bringing attention to the long column of her throat. Alistair suddenly found himself distracted by the bead of sweat travelling down her dark skin, sliding down her collarbones down to her cleav-. He forced himself to pay attention to his friend’s words, mouth dry and face too hot in the cool night air.  
  
“-got the part where they grew up in the slums and joined a gang. I believe there’s matching tattoos somewhere on these bad boys.”  
  
Alistair wheezed a laugh before he suppressed it in consideration of his resting companions.  
  
Avira gave him a sly smirk as she reached into her bag, pulling out a carving knife to skin what was most likely going to be breakfast. When she saw that Alistair wasn’t making any moves to go back to bed, she spoke.  
  
“If you must know, I was practicing with my staff. I’ve added weights to them and wanted to get use to the added bulk.”  
  
“Weights?” Alistair looked up from her working hands (huh, she’s surprisingly good with a knife) to look at her, surprised.  
  
“Mhm. ‘Magic exists to serve man’, but I believe that man must be able enough to withstand the power that comes from wielding it,” she said a matter-of-factly.  
  
She raised her arm, pulling the skin of the nug off in one smooth motion and flexed her arm to emphasis her point. Even through the baggy arm of her robe, Alistair had to be blind and dead to miss the impressive curve of the mage’s bicep. He blindly reached for his waterskin as he felt his mouth go dry once more.  
  
“Ah. Hmm,” he said before he took a sip and during.  
  
She snorted (nose scrunching very cutely) at his dumbstruck expression with a suppressed grin dimpling her tattooed cheeks.  
  
“Yes, yes, there’s no real reason for me to train in such a way, but it keeps me from getting too restless,” Avira explained, focusing back on skinning the remaining nug, totally (and thankfully) missing the true reason behind Alistair’s wide eyes. “Besides, it’ll be funny to see a bandit try to attack me up close, thinking I’m easy pickings because I’m wearing a robe.”  
  
“Honestly if they’re daft enough to mess with a mage who just so happens to be you, they deserve anything that’s coming to them,” Alistair said, finally dragging his eyes away from Avira’s arms as they flexed in their motions of carving.  
  
“Some fools like to believe that it won’t be them who gets killed when taking on an obviously stronger opponent. Unfortunately for us, all of Ferelden is filled with such idiots,” she smirked, “Present company included.”  
  
Avira chuckled at Alistair’s affronted “Hey!”, finishing up cutting away anything of value from the animals. The mage glanced up at him, eyes darkening, and gave him a devious smile with just a hint of teeth showing.  
  
“Though,” she said lowly, that single word seizing him and narrowing his vision to her full lips as they shaped her words, ”It’ll be amusing to see anyone try to get the upper hand over me only for their head to go rolling.”  
  
Seeing the elf fighting was already an act of passion that plagued him at night, but the image she was painting –  
  
Oh, may Andraste guide him.  
  
And so, Alistair said, “Perhaps I could teach you how to use a sword if that suits your fancy. You know, to help with the head rolling,” like an idiot.  
  
Excited eyes and (adorably) perked ears regarded him and he felt his soul leave him for a moment, joining his common sense by the Maker’s side.  
  
When he said guide him, this wasn’t what he meant.

*

So, Avira’s training began. They used one of Alistair’s old swords that they’ve been meaning to pawn off for her to practice with. She took to it well enough, making up for the lack of familiarity with muscle and with an eagerness to learn which everyone found amusing (and too cute in Alistair’s case). It almost took the sting out of him making a complete fool of himself in front of Avira as a teacher. Maker’s breath, he could barely bring himself to touch her on the occasion where her form needed correcting.  
  
“It still feels a tad strange,” she said during one session.  
  
They were working on a new maneuver that seemed to elude the mage, much to her frustration. Alistair gave nudges and corrections where he saw fit, but after a while, her form seemed perfect –  
  
“Ah!” Her borrowed sword went flying somehow as Avira misstepped and landed on her rear.  
  
Well, almost.  
  
Alistair eventually called for a break when it became apparent that the mage was working herself into a tizzy over the move.  
  
“There’s something missing, but I can’t seem to narrow down what it is,” she grumbled into her waterskin.  
  
Alistair was trying his best to nod in understanding, but the woman was pouting of all things! He’s never seen such an expression on her normally stoic face.  
  
He rubbed at his smile, trying his best to wipe it away as he hummed in thought.  
  
“Perhaps we can leave this particular move for another time,” He suggested, earning a sour look.  
  
“Ah yes, giving up when the odds are against me. That’s completely within my character. Oh Alistair, I’m so glad you know me so well,” she said without any real heat in her voice as she laid onto the ground with her arms crossed.  
  
“You see, what gave your cowardice away was all the hiding in the trees whenever darkspawn drew close, because everyone knows that the creatures can’t climb,” Alistair retorted to her as he walked over, staring down at the mage with a wide grin.  
  
She scowled harder but only because she was fighting down a smile herself. Then her eyes lit up before she thrusted her arms out to him.  
  
“Uh oh,” Alistair said laughingly as he took her hands and hoisted her up. “What’s going on in that mind of yours O warden?”  
  
Avira didn’t answer him as she picked up the sword, turned around and… pressed her back against his front. Alistair’s heart did something that definitely wasn’t healthy as he froze in his spot.  
  
“Like this, guide me the best you can,” she told him, holding the sword aloft with one hand as the other reached behind her to grab at his and pull him closer.  
  
“Th-This would, ah, this would probably be more difficult for you, no?” Alistair replied, thanking the Maker that his voice didn’t crack (too hard).  
  
“What’s hard for me right now – “  
  
Bad word choice, bad word choice, bad word choice –  
  
“ – is the fact that I can’t figure out this move through conventional means,” she retorted, pulling his arm and pushing impossibly closer against him. “So, let’s try this.”  
  
Avira looked up at him, her bottomless blue eyes peeking behind disheveled coils.  
  
“Or are you going to quit on this and move on?”  
  
There wasn’t a hint of challenge in her voice, just a simple inquiry, but he rose to it anyway. Despite his feelings for her making things difficult for him, his want to see her succeed helped settle his nerves a bit. Alistair took a breath and gave a laugh that was more confident than what he felt.  
  
“Not at all,” he said as he placed his chin over her shoulder and wrapped his hands over hers. (She smelled of sweat, dog, and ozone. Her hair was wild with frizz, but it was soft. She was solid under his hands.)  
  
There was a pause, and he could feel Avira’s cheek rise with a smile before they both moved.  
  
The move was perfected within that afternoon.

*

There was nothing appealing about fighting to Alistair. All that it really was was just another chore to be done for the inevitably of it was like the sun rising and setting. There’s definitely nothing fun about the smell of blood and other bodily fluids filling the air (Oghren’s just weird). Fighting with Avira made things different. Not just because she could make flames and lightening come to her like it’s second nature, but something just… drew his eyes to her when he wasn’t facing an opponent.  
  
He already knew he was in love with her, but seeing her punch a darkspawn when she’s out of mana and seeing her bash a skull with the butt of her staff and seeing her lop the head off of a bandit with her sword (the same practice one with the dull blade he could never get to sharpen) just got him thinking. He was halfway sure that he’ll make a fine husband on the off chance she wanted him back.  
  
Avira’s eyes sought his, and she lifted her sword with a brilliant grin and Alistair couldn’t help but to wonder if this feeling of love and elation was anything close to how the Maker felt gazing down at Andraste.

**Author's Note:**

> : D  
> Tumblr: thaddy-writes  
> Twitter: theunradestlez


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